It has taken four weeks, but as of yesterday I finally remember what it’s like to be in school, and, more importantly, what grad school is supposed to be like. I feel like my history class has dumped me into the middle of a lake, and told me that although there are landmarks and others thrashing wildly in the water around me, I must A. learn how to swim and B. find my way to shore, all by observing the motion of the water around me. It’s a disconcerting feeling. One I am not used to after a few years away from academia. That’s not to say I’m not enjoying myself entirely, I just need to get used to being the unenlightened one in the class instead of the one at the top. My ego is smarting.
My other two classes are interesting, if not as intellectually challenging. This week I shall be interviewing a systems librarian to discover more about her job. A useful practice, which part of me wishes I had done more of throughout high school and undergrad. Reference is about what I expected it to be, and surprisingly something I’ve been informally practicing for a long time now. I quite enjoy it, but would only look for a job in reference outside the public library realm.
Socially, life is good. I’ve gone dancing at a few venues in the area now as I try to find a lindy-hop place that will match the awesomeness of my dance hall in Denver. The reality is: I won’t. The Merc was special, and the best I can do for the moment is to find a place welcoming and with dancers eager to teach me what they know. I’m a far bit better than I expected, which comes of dancing in a place that has a large group of advanced/intermediate dancers that have been around for a decade. So, while my intellectual ego is taking a bruising, my “I can dance” ego has gotten a boost. You win some, you lose many others.
I now have a several-paragraph response paper to write about my history reading. Who knew that we were in a post-poststructuralist era? Considering I’m still fuzzy on what poststructuralism is, I really have nothing intelligent to say about being past (post?) that.